


we go round and round in this one horse town

by bytheinco_nstantmoon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (to the tune of time warp) it's emotional repression againnnnnn, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Billy Gets A Redemption I Guess, Coming of Age, F/M, FUCK NEIL HARGROVE, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Not Season/Series 02 Compliant, Polyamory, Self Confidence Issues, We Gracefully Route Billy Towards Not Being Racist, also he has a crush on steve, fuck canon billy i only like the version of him im making in my head, i am NOT a man of my word, i can't tell if i regret this or not????, i don't know why either shut up, i don't think so, i looked at season two and the only thing i kept was billy and max moving to town, i said i would never do this but then i got too attached to Them, i stan carol, it made my heart happy, no beta we die like men, ok carol slapped him and said "dont be racist", so fuck that i guess, the LIGHTEST teen rating possible, tommy hagan deserves better, wicker shut up in the tag section
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bytheinco_nstantmoon/pseuds/bytheinco_nstantmoon
Summary: "Billy wants to hate Hawkins.And he does, actually. But fuck, he wants them more."-Billy never used to feel like this, but Billy never used to have anything like Tommy and Carol.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Carol Perkins, Tommy Hagan/Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan/Billy Hargrove/Carol Perkins, Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	we go round and round in this one horse town

**Author's Note:**

> is this part of a larger au? yes
> 
> will i write the rest of it? yes
> 
> will i post the rest of it? ask again in one to seven business days my confidence fluctuates wildly depending on the phase of the moon

Billy wants to hate Hawkins.

And he does, actually. He hates the cramped streets and the sprawling fields and the sticky mud underfoot, and he hates the unpaved roads and the dry air and the cloudy sky, and he hates the wary glances and he hates the way that he can never seem to get warm. He hates Hawkins. He hates Indiana.

But he doesn't hate Max. He wants to, because Max hates him, because he's never good enough for her, because he's never good enough for Neil, because Susan looks at him like dirt on her shoe, but he doesn't. He can't. He thought he did for a while. He was never nice to her back in Cali; never cruel, but he made fun of her and fought with her and didn't apologise. He tugged her pigtails and called her a baby when she cried about it, and then he kicked sand up in the air and wondered why everything felt like shit. So he wasn't nice. He wasn't a good brother. He wasn't  _ fucking _ good enough.

And he'd been pissed when Neil said they were moving, all because of fucking Max, because Max wanted to run away, because they'd dragged her back home kicking and screaming and now they were going to drag her across the country and Billy was going to lose everything. Everything except Max.

The problem is, he'd rather be in Indiana with her than in California without.

Billy hates Hawkins, but he doesn't hate Max, and he doesn't hate the feeling of sprawling his whole body across the couch in the basement of someone's house, listening to the music thump wildly upstairs as a rerun of the Hoosiers game plays on the shitty TV. He lets his breath all fall out of his body like a sigh. Parties are stifling. It kills him to be wrapped up in people like that. The thrill of it brings him a high, though, one that weed can't replicate, and Billy likes a high. Likes it more than most anything in the world.

Tommy is slumped on the floor beside the couch, his head falling back into Billy's hip. It feels like danger, maybe. Touching all familiar in a stranger's house. But Billy doesn't want Tommy to move, so he doesn't say anything.

Billy hates Hawkins, but he doesn't hate Tommy.

Tommy had given him a pen the first day of school- handed him one, then snatched it back and handed him another, because it was all chewed at the end. Billy had just wrinkled his nose, not even thanked him, but Tommy laughed anyway. Billy thought it was the most annoying sound in the world. But nobody else gave him a pen, so he let the guy follow him around. Let Tommy's girlfriend steal his chips at lunch. Let the two of them invite him to parties he didn't really feel like going to.

And they didn't go away. And Tommy always gave him a pen if he needed one. And somehow Tommy laughing wasn't so annoying anymore, and Carol stealing his chips didn't make him grit his teeth, and the parties became a welcome excuse to avoid Neil for the evening.

(Billy never used to dream about things like that.)

But then Billy shoved Steve Harrington to the ground in basketball practice, and Tommy didn't speak to him for, like, a whole day, and it was weird because Tommy is clingy as fuck, and Carol said, "They used to be friends," in a way that made Billy's blood boil. So he shoved Steve to the ground the next day too and dragged Tommy outside after, growled in his face that he  _ couldn't fucking stop him, Harrington shouldn't get in my way _ -

But Tommy was just standing there staring at him with those big, dark eyes, all pitiful and open and sad, and Billy had to cut himself off halfway through.

Tommy had said, "Is Steve really worth arguing over?", even though he hadn't been arguing back, and Billy just said, "Shut up," and kissed him so hard their teeth clicked together.

(Billy never used to do things like that.)

Tommy had kissed him back. And for a moment, the best moment of Billy's life, Steve Harrington didn't matter at all.

Billy didn't see Max much anymore. She'd made friends- he'd wrinkled his nose when he saw them at first, but Carol had slapped him full across the face and said he was "acting like Neil," and he almost called her a bitch except he couldn't hear it in any voice except his fucking father's, and-

And he didn't want Carol to be Susan.

So he swallowed the insult and said, "Fine, whatever," and sulked when Tommy ignored him in English for two days.

So Max has friends and Billy has Tommy and Carol and Hawkins is awful but it could be worse and he's still laying on the couch in a stranger's basement, letting Tommy lean on his hip, and the whole world is too cold again. It's always too cold in Hawkins.

He shifts and reaches down, carding a hand through Tommy's hair. "Tom." He gets a hum. "Tom," he repeats, louder, and Tommy grumbles but lolls his head to the side. His face is flushed under his freckles and his eyes are big and wide and Billy really, really wants to slam him against the wall and kiss him until they can't breathe anymore. "We're leaving."

Tommy nods. He always nods. It's unsettling, sometimes, because Billy isn't used to being a leader, but Tommy just follows him and lets him pick their battles. At first, he liked the power rush, the heady feeling of control, but it's gone sour by now. Billy doesn't want to pick Tommy's battles. He just wants Tommy.

"Where's Carrie?" Tommy asks, but he's already stumbling up to his feet. Billy hooks an arm over his shoulders to steer him. Their teammates snicker- there's history there, something about Tommy being easy meat after whatever happened with Steve (Billy fucking hates Steve) but they just ignore it and shove through the crowd on the stairs. Carol is by the punch bowl, stirring it listlessly. She looks like a witch with a cheap plastic cauldron. A pretty witch, though.

(Billy never used to think things like that.)

Her face splits into a smile when she sees them, and Tommy exclaims, "Carrie!" so loud that he almost loses his balance. Billy catches him and tries not to laugh. That's the dangerous thing about Tommy and Carol- they've teased a few smiles out of him now, a laugh or two on occasion. Ripped out his defences without him even noticing. It delights them, too, makes their eyes light up, and that just makes his walls crumble more until they're gone and he's alone again and has time to rebuild them. His room is dark without them around. It's not safe to crack himself open like that or he'll let the darkness in too, and he's not sure he'd survive that.

Carol kisses Tommy's cheek clumsily and then tangles herself under Billy's other arm. "Where to, boys?" Her voice is sort of slurred by the alcohol, and Billy mourns the sex he won't be having tonight. He saw her doing shots earlier. Carol's way too drunk for sex after tequila. Little lady like her is a lightweight.

(He doesn't really mind. She's under his arm, at least.

(He's not sure when that became so much more than enough.)

(Billy never used to feel things like that.)

Tommy grins up at him as they break out of the crowd into the night air. The chill isn't completely unbearable right now, not with a beer or six in his system and his friends tucked under his arms. "Where we goin’, Billy?" He stumbles over a rock and sort of chokes on a laugh. Billy and Carol exchange an eyeroll. “My, uh, my brother, he’s got friends over. We could kick ‘em out. Might get in trouble with my old man, though. Not that he could do anythin’ to you.”

Billy hums. “Don’t like when you’re in trouble. Fucks up my routine.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Carol rolls her eyes again. “He means we like having you around, dumbass,” she says, and Billy can feel the two of them link hands against the small of his back. “Love you,” she adds, and Tommy grins stupidly.

“Love you too,” he says, all bright and disgustingly happy, and Billy’s lips tighten of their own accord. He hates hearing them say it. He knows it already. Knows they’ve been friends since they were five and in love since they were fifteen. Knows they’re  _ it _ . Knows their parents already talk about the wedding. Knows Carol will point out rings she likes in shops sometimes and Tommy keeps a mental tally of them all.

He knows already that he’s an intruder on their American pie dream. But fuck, he hates hearing them say it.

“The folks are out,” he interrupts before the sick feeling in his throat can get any thicker. “Went up to Seattle for the weekend.”

Carol gives him a long, unreadable look, and he pretends he can’t feel it.

Tommy trips over his own feet again. “Am I staying over?” he asks, and the sick feeling swells back immediately, because  _ fuck, Tommy, how am I supposed to know?  _ He’s got his voice all curious but neutral, the way he makes it when he doesn’t want Billy to know how he feels about the answer. Makes it a blank slate. Makes it so Billy’s doing all the choosing for him. Makes it so Billy’s in charge.

Six months ago, he would have liked the power trip. Now it just makes him grind his teeth together and mutter, “Whatever you want, Tom.”

Tommy leans his head into Billy’s chest and says, “Ok.” All simple. Doesn’t tell him what he fucking wants. Doesn’t tell him anything at all. Billy’s eyebrow twitches. He can feel Carol’s stare all heavy on his face again, and this time he looks back. She just sighs and leans up to kiss his shoulder clumsily.

__

_(“i can kiss you if you want,” she’d said, months ago, standing outside school. he’d been all shaky on his feet from lack of sleep, so tommy had taken the keys and they were waiting for him to bring the car around._

__

__

_billy had rolled his eyes. “don’t be an idiot.” they’d spent the night together, the three of them, and it had been good. but it hadn’t been good enough to make him think it really meant anything. tommy and carol were it. billy was their senior year mistake, and he was more than ok with that. (he told himself he was ok with that.)_

_(billy never used to tell himself things like that.)_

_she rolled her eyes back, because carol always matched him stride for stride. “do you want me to kiss you?”_

_“we’re in public.”_

_“and?” she’d raised an eyebrow at him like he’d said the dumbest thing in the world. “you haven’t heard? i’m already a slut to them. no one’ll say shit.”_

_for some reason, that made billy scowl. “shut the fuck up.”_

_ she did. they both knew it wasn’t because he told her to, though.)_

So Carol could get away with a little more than Tommy could. And that hurt a little, because he liked kissing Tommy. But Hawkins, Hell wouldn’t like it nearly as much as he did, so he let Carol get away with kissing his shoulder and touching his cheek and sitting on his lap and sometimes he put his face in her hair and closed his eyes so he could pretend it was Tommy. Not that he doesn’t want Carol in his arms. It’s just he wants Tommy in his arms too. They belong together.

They somehow make it back to the darkened house in one piece, even though Tommy trips three more times and they somehow get lost and end up detouring down Elm. Billy slams the door closed behind them with a relieved sigh and tosses his jacket onto the rack. Misses. It falls on the ground.

Carol huffs and goes to pick it up, but he catches her around the waist instead and drags her into a kiss. “Billy,” she murmurs, but he hums and spins them so that she’s pressed up against the door. Her fingers scrabble at his spine and he pauses, but he can feel her smiling, so he goes back to kissing her as deeply as he can without feeling guilty. “Billy. Billy- your coat-”

He nips her lip a little and relents, stepping back so that she can grab it and hang it up. “You never care about that when you’re sober.” Carol just shrugs.

Tommy laughs a little. He’s leaned up against the wall, watching them. He likes watching them kiss. Sometimes Billy thinks Tommy likes to watch him kiss Carol more than he likes to kiss Billy himself. Sometimes Billy wonders if Tommy even likes guys.

A familiar face flashes into his head and he scowls before he can help it. “Let’s go upstairs,” he mutters, and storms away towards his room. It’s not very good storming though, mostly just stomping like Max does when she has to do her homework before she goes out. She’s at Steve’s, he thinks. He stomps harder.

He’s already collapsed on his bed when Carol pushes the door open slowly. He keeps scowling at the ceiling. She edges over towards him. Sits down. Takes his hand.

That feels a little better. He feels like Neil when he stomps. Susan would never take Neil’s hand when he’s pissed off.

Carol is nothing like Susan. Billy could never love Susan.

Her voice is soft when she speaks, but it’s firm. “We’re not having sex tonight, Billy.” Fuck, does she think he’s mad about her pulling away?  _ Of course she does, _ his mind provides.  _ It’s not like she can read your mind, Billy. _

He doesn’t want to have sex. He just wants Tommy to want him. (And he wants Steve Harrington to go away.) He can feel his gut constrict the way it always does when he lets himself think about it and his next breath comes out all shaky, like he’s strangling it. “I don’t wanna have sex.”

Carol smooths his hair out of his face. “Tommy, come in here,” she calls, and he does, comes slinking through the door and leans against the wall again, and Billy scowls even harder. Carol glares at him. “It’s the three of us,” she mutters to him, as if he could forget. As if he wants anything else. “He gets to be here.”

Billy’s eyebrow twitches. He can’t convey anything right. “I want him to be here,” he mutters back, and then he lets his head fall onto the pillow and whispers, “I fucking hate Steve,” because he has to say it sometimes. For therapy’s sake.

When he opens his eyes, her face has softened. She gets it.

“Does it get easier?” he asks, and she glances over at Tommy. He looks bewildered. Probably couldn’t hear them when they were whispering. Probably wouldn’t understand what they meant even if he could, because he’s oblivious to it.

Somehow, that hurts more.

(Billy never used to hurt over things like that.)

Carol kisses the corner of his mouth. “No,” she answers. Her voice is raw. The wound never stops bleeding. “But it’s worth it.”

Yeah. Tommy is worth it. Billy knows that already. He just wants to be worth it for Tommy, too.

He pulls Carol down into his arms so that she's half-sprawled across his chest, grumbling into her hair until she stops moving. She sticks her tongue out at him as she gets comfortable, then kicks him lightly and wiggles again for good measure. "Asshole." He gives her a charming smile and lets her kiss it away. "Tom," she says, and points to the space on Billy's other side.

Tommy hesitates.

Billy scowls and holds out his arm. "Get  _ over  _ here," he snaps before he can help it, because  _ fuck _ , he's drunk and he's tired and he wants a night with them next to him. He wants Tommy to elbow him in his sleep and Carol to sleep talk directly into his ear and all three of them to get so tangled up that he can't find his arms out of theirs. He wants to be such a jumbled mess of limbs that his joints are stiff in the morning. He wants to wake up with them. He wants them to  _ want _ him, goddammit.

(Billy never used to want things like that.)

Tommy is still hovering, though, so he forces down the anger rises in his throat and says, "Come here, Tom, come on, come to bed," as gently as he can. Tommy's lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but Carol whines and reaches one arm out for him and he just collapses next to them.

"Is there room for me?" he asks quietly, and Carol tangles her fingers in his, dragging him down so that his head lands on Billy's chest.

Billy kisses his ear because he doesn't want to move too much. "There's always room for you," he says, and Billy never used to say things like that, but it doesn't taste as foreign as it should. His chest flips awkwardly when Tommy kisses his jaw in return.

(Billy never used to love things like that.)

Carol drifts off quickly, still holding onto the both of them like a leech, oddly endearing as she mumbles Spanish into the side of Billy's throat. She doesn't know Spanish, she's admitted to him before, but she's been learning a little. For Tommy's family. Billy had nodded and pretended that didn't make his chest feel like honey, warm and gold and sweet. Because Billy doesn't feel things like that. But he and Tommy will exchange little smiles when they hear her practising, repeating phrases over and over into the mirror to get the accent right. Even when she stumbles, Tommy's eyes look so soft, and Billy can't help but soften with them. He can rarely help himself around Tommy.

He softens too easily for them, falls right apart under their touch. He'd give them any part of himself they asked for. It's scary, sometimes, when he thinks about it, but right now his veins are buzzing with bliss and his head is ringing with content, and Carol is mumbling Spanish against his throat, and Tommy falls asleep with his nose tucked under Billy's ear, pressed so closely that their hearts are synchronised. The light is still on. He doesn't want to turn it off. He just wants to stay in this cocoon, wants to exploit the drunken domesticity that ties him into their arms. And Billy wants to hate Hawkins.

But fuck, he wants Tommy and Carol more.

(Billy never used to want things like that.)

(Billy is happier now.)

**Author's Note:**

> no i didn't need to write this <3 but i did so now it's your problem
> 
> hit me up on tumblr @theworriedman i'm boring but i reblog from cool people


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